


And the Day's Gonna Be Today

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Affection, Episode Tag, M/M, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: He'd held the Title before - when he'd liberated it from Seth last year, loading and unloading rentals and rooms while it was Roman's - but it was heavier somehow, made official with his own side plates.





	And the Day's Gonna Be Today

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the space between Money in the Bank 2016 and the announcement about Roman’s suspension.

Even with the couple hours of cushion from the time zone - another perk of the show's landing in Vegas - it was still coming up on midnight by the time he made it down the hall to the locker room, the belt - _his belt_ \- slung over his shoulder, hands finally done shaking, the sweat long since dried in his hair and clothes beginning to itch, laughter still bubbling out of his chest irregularly to surprise him as much as anyone else. 

He'd held the Title before - when he'd liberated it from Seth last year, loading and unloading rentals and rooms while it was Roman's - but it was heavier somehow, made official with his own side plates. He pressed his fingertips into the edges of the insignia, letting it mark him the way he planned to make his mark on the whole fucking company now. He was still feeling it out, testing the heft of it over his heart when Roman stepped out from behind the far bank of lockers. 

"Hey," he said, throat going dry even as he felt a smile flickering over his face. They were never going to stop calling him crazy if he couldn't get his face under control. "Missed you at gorilla."

"Or ringside," Roman said, looking guiltily down at his feet - socks and sandals, already showered up and ready to hit the road. He looked tired. Beat. "Thought I'd let you have your moment. Least you deserve."

"Moment woulda been sweeter with you in it." He cringed as soon as the words left his face, but before he could stumble over something that sounded less saccharine, or less accusing, Roman was surging across the room toward him. His heart pounded, shoulders straightening, body still on auto-pilot and tapping into some final reserve of adrenaline. It had been Seth's chest heaving beneath him for _one, two, three_, but it'd been Roman's plates they'd pried up to make room for his own; nobody'd blame the big dog for snapping. 

Except Roman wasn't jerking the belt away from him. Instead, it was pressed hard into his chest by Roman's own as he tugged him forward into a fierce hug, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head and tip it forward to rest on Ro's broad shoulder. 

"Let's get out of here, and I'll make it up to you," Roman said into his hair.

He sagged further into the bearhug and breathed out a happy sigh at the thought of being home tonight: sleeping the sleep of the righteous in his own bed with his boy curled up beside him. Better yet, not-sleeping, with Roman moving against him, tangling a hand in his hair and breathing shit like _love you, champ_ into his ear. 

"Proud of you, uce," Roman said now, making a head start on the gush of compliments.

He could feel his own expression going soft - knew his face was doing something goofy even as he rubbed it into Roman's light hoodie. "Not, like, so proud that you're not gonna ask for your rematch tomorrow, though," he said. "Right?"

Roman went stiff for just a beat, like he'd been caught by a blow with no chance to brace. 

But Dean hadn't been throwing punches. Not on purpose, anyway. He really was already looking forward to locking up again outside a practice ring; the energy of a live crowd an almost a fair trade for how much less likely a pin was to be countered by a filthy kiss in a real match than in their off-hours sparring. He'd meant it lightly, and he thought he'd said it that way, too, but maybe it'd been muffled by the way he was tucked into Roman's neck, the fabric of the big man's hood somehow blunting his words to make him sound bitter instead of eager. 

Roman had already recovered, holding him close like there'd never been a hitch, but he let Dean pull back easily enough when he straightened up to look him in the face. The question he hadn't figured out the right words to shape must have been written all over him, because Roman just shook his head and gave him a little crooked smile before he'd even said a thing. 

"Tomorrow night's show can take care of itself tomorrow," Roman said, resettling his grip on his shoulders, one hand pressing warm and tender into skin and muscle and gristle while the other pinned the supple leather of the strap in place between them. "Tonight's all about you."

He let Roman kiss him then, soft and slow and sweet as anything that'd happened tonight. There was more to the story, for sure, but there was no point in forcing it, in souring the celebration just when it'd finally begun in earnest. He'd get the rest of it out of his boy tomorrow night or the night after. Somewhere along the long unbroken track of road laid out in front of them, anyway.


End file.
